


Shiver

by autumnyte



Series: Boss Moshe Hazzan [8]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Post-Break Up, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnyte/pseuds/autumnyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Killbane sabotages Johnny's funeral by blowing up the Hughes Memorial Bridge, Moshe gets a call he wasn't expecting and he doesn't handle it well. Set after the events in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Saints_Row_Fic/works/2116872">Schism</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

> This was filled as part of a dialogue prompt meme on tumblr, for ruthlesscalibrations who requested: "That's an awful thing to say." ft Moshe!"

Twenty minutes after having dragged himself out of the river, Moshe was still soaked to the bone. The suit he had chosen for Johnny’s funeral clung to his skin, wet and heavy. He shivered, and the leather seat beneath him made a terrible squeak when he shifted to push his foot harder on the gas pedal. 

He was driving back to Steelport alone. Pierce, Shaundi, and Oleg were returning separately, having ventured into Stilwater for a dry change of clothes. The mental image of Oleg bursting into Impressions or Branded in search of a garment his size would normally have made Moshe laugh, but at present, he couldn’t even muster a smile. 

Pierce had tried to convince him to join them, telling Moshe he’d make himself sick wearing those filthy, river-drenched clothes for too long. But Moshe had waved him off, jacked a car, and pressed on by himself. 

As the highway scenery whizzed by, his mind churned over the newly gleaned information about Killbane. He had been such a fool. Thinking he had dealt a crushing blow to the Syndicate. Thinking he would finally be able to honor Johnny’s memory properly, take a breather, and maybe even come home. 

That was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. It was clear there could be no justice for Johnny, and no peace for any of them until the Syndicate was completely, utterly eradicated.

His cell phone rang and he didn’t bother looking at the screen before answering. “Yeah?” 

"Mo? Thank God." Troy’s voice was unmistakable, though there was an unfamiliar tremble in it. "Just caught the news, the bridge and… the purple cars. Everyone okay?" 

"You honestly give a fuck?" Moshe asked, hating the cruel question as soon as it left his lips. "Yeah, we survived, if that’s what you’re after. Johnny’s casket wasn’t so lucky, but at least his remains weren’t in it." 

"Shit," Troy muttered. "Where are you now? I was thinking maybe we could talk." 

Moshe clutched the steering wheel hard. If he turned the car around, he could be on Troy’s doorstep in less than an hour. For an instant, every last muscle in his body twitched with the temptation.

"Not exactly in a talking mood," he heard himself say, and he barely recognized his own voice. "Dunno what there is to talk about anyway. I’m headed back to Steelport to finish dealing with these Syndicate fucks."

There was silence on the line, followed by the sound of Troy drawing in a deep breath. “Look, just because we’re not together… just because I can’t be there with you, that doesn’t mean I don’t care.” 

Something almost resembling a laugh escaped Moshe’s throat, unnatural and strained. “You could’ve fucking fooled me. What bloody good does your ‘caring’ do me, or the Saints, or… Johnny?” 

"Be fair." 

Moshe knew he _wasn’t_ being fair, but he couldn’t halt the torrent of words. “Fair? Have you any idea what I’ve had to go through? Of course you bloody don’t. Do you know how much easier all this could be if you’d only stood by me? If you were here, you wouldn’t have to phone me up to see if I’ve survived a bloody bridge explosion, would you? If you’d had our backs today, maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all.”

"That’s an awful thing to say," Troy replied quietly. 

Why wasn’t he yelling back? Why wasn’t he defending himself?

Moshe lowered his tone to match Troy’s. “You know what? Care or don’t care. I no longer give a fuck. If I can’t use it to take down the Syndicate, it’s worthless to me.” 

"You act like I haven’t done anything to help, but I’m doing whatever I can over here. Ask Pierce. My intel’s been good and frequent." Troy sounded defeated, despite his assertions, and Moshe realized this was a fight neither of them could truly win.

"Tell you what, Chief. The next time you feel a burning need to find out how or what the Saints are doing, you go ahead and ring Pierce."  

"Mo—" 

"Lose my number, Troy. We’ve got nothing left to say to one another." 

Moshe hung up and threw the phone across the car. A full-body shiver ran through him, and this time, it had nothing to do with the wet clothes.


End file.
